


Elevator Ride

by UprightIguana



Category: The X-Files
Genre: BDSM, Humor, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-07-07
Updated: 2002-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-20 14:22:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11337300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UprightIguana/pseuds/UprightIguana
Summary: Summary:  What happens after a rat is ensnared, and then tries to escape.





	Elevator Ride

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

Elevator Ride

## Elevator Ride

#### by Shan

Rating: NC-17. ADT - About Damn Time. Category: Humorous PWP  
Prequels: Elevator Music and Otis, in that order. And you do need to read them first. Pairing: Skinner/Krycek.  
Warning: non-con, bdsm, spanking - the whole nine yards. Summary: What happens after a rat is ensnared. 

Disclaimer: Standard Fanfic Boilerplate: Don't own 'em. Don't make a penny, peso, drachma, ruble, yen, euro or pobblebead off 'em. And Otis Elevators don't talk to ME. 

Spoilers: Thru Existence sans Garage Scene. Garage Scene? What Garage Scene? Feedback: . Please, oh, please. 

Notes: It's my birthday, and y'all get a pressie! Xanthe had much to do with this - starting with her first music vid, where she mentioned that our boys' relationship had a lot to do with elevators. And, as usual, I am indebted to Josan, eagle-eye beta of the North. P.S. Nowadays, I usually take the stairs... 

**ELEVATOR RIDE**  
By Shan 

_Assistant Director._

"Evening, Otis." 

_We have a slight problem at home._

Image: a despondent Alex Krycek, sitting on the floor of the high-rise elevator, leaning against the back wall. He's wearing only jeans, and handcuffs dangle from his right wrist. He's wearing a leather collar. 

"Damn. How did he get out?" 

_At least he did not get far._

"I'm getting sloppy with the cuffs. Thank you for corralling him." 

_Glad to be of service, sir._

"Think you can hold him for a while?" 

_Not a problem, Assistant Director._

* * *

The elevator is going up - again. 

I always thought that I had an affinity for mechanical objects, but I couldn't get the door to open or the cab to stop. Tried the control panel. The emergency stop button - didn't. The phone was dead. Hitting the button for every floor didn't work, either. 

Skinner hadn't thoroughly checked the handcuff this morning when he left, and I have to admit I didn't notice it until I had to get up to nature's call. I was honor-bound to escape - places to go, people to see, you know. It took a while to work the cuff open. All that patient lock-picking, and I only got as far as the damned elevator. 

So I'm sitting here on the floor, in jeans with no shirt, no prosthetic, and one side of the cuffs still locked around my right wrist. I couldn't get the damn collar off from around my neck. And I'd long since stop worrying whether someone would open the door and find me looking like a refugee from a bad leather flick. In fact, if only someone - anyone - would open the damn door... 

The elevator is going down. Again. 

I get the distinct feeling of being watched. By someone both vastly amused and insatiably curious. I'm thinking it might be security, and I spent some time looking for cameras and microphones. Nada. But I can't shake that feeling of being watched. Like a lab specimen on a petrie dish. I tried the service trap door, but it wouldn't budge. In any case, climbing around elevator cables is hardly advisable for someone less one limb. 

It's been almost an hour, maybe, and I finally just sit on the floor and try not to look like a one-armed porn-flick escapee. Sitting there, riding the elevator, I wonder, not for the first time, just how Skinner managed to do it. He was waiting for me that night, like he knew... like he'd been warned. 

Damn, never knew he could move that fast. I was grabbed by a shirtless Skinner, all rippling pectorals and biceps, and it was lights out, Alex. 

Then I woke up cuffed naked and spreadeagled to his bed. _His bed_. 

Well, at least it wasn't the balcony. 

I honestly didn't expect to last the night. Walter Skinner had a great deal banked in the Getting Even department. So, lying there, face down, naked, spread out and cuffed, all I could do was wait for the retribution to start. Your standard Mulder-esque beat-the-shit-out-of-me operating procedure. I heard the sound of a leather belt being pulled from belt loops. 

I instinctively knew that words, my most dependable defense mechanism, were now useless, if not downright detrimental. So I shut up and waited. 

The first touch of leather on my skin was a gentle stroking, down my back, across my butt, down the insides of my thighs. I jumped as if hit, a half-strangled cry of surprise met by his amused chuckle as he continued stroking me, taking his time. Everywhere the warm leather belt trailed over my exposed skin, I tingled. 

And then, with that unnatural speed, he lifted the belt and swung. I did actually scream this time, half out of surprise, but mostly from the hot bite of the leather on naked flesh. Skinner swung hard and fast, until I couldn't draw breath in time with the blows, and tears were coming unbidden. 

He stopped then. I lay there, gasping and sobbing, when I felt his big warm hand on my back between my shoulder blades, sliding up to my neck and messaging gently. Confused, I stilled, wondering what was next, when his hand slid down my back, stroking and caressing. Even when the rough palm slid over the hot flesh of my buttocks, it felt - good. Really good. 

"I should have done this the first time," his voice drifted down from somewhere close above me. 

His hand slid around my hip, under my abdomen, sliding down until it encountered my cock. To the surprise of both of us, me more than him, I was hard. Again, I heard that maddeningly amused chuckle, and then warmth radiating from his now naked body as he leaned close over me, the fur on his chest stroking my back sensuously, his lips nuzzling my ear. By now, my own traitorous body had decided that it really liked it here, and wanted to play. 

"I thought so," he murmured, throatily. 

"Jesus, Skinner - what the hell are you doing?" I croaked. 

"What you really want, apparently." 

I felt a sudden rush of jumbled emotions, all pooling in my belly. Skinner wasn't going to kill me, or even cause me permanent harm - but he was going to make me pay. I shuddered, as much from that thought as from his warm rough fingers closed firmly around my shaft. 

He stroked me unhurriedly, enjoying the tension in my body. His other hand, sans the belt, slid up my back and around my front to find a nipple. He pinched, hard enough to hurt, still pumping my cock. Helplessly, I started to thrust my hips. He brought me unerringly right to the brink, and stopped. His fingers tightened sharply around the base of my cock, and I moaned. 

Again, that chuckle. He pulled away. 

Bastard. 

"In case you've forgotten why you're here," he said, the thread of menace all too real in his voice. He picked up the belt. 

This dance of opposing sensations continued. The sound of the leather on my naked flesh, my cries, and eventually my tears, followed by his hands stroking me, softly, gently, even over the hot reddened flesh, until my moans were no longer about pain. Then he substituted his hands for the belt, the pain was less fiery, but the sound of his flattened palm on my tender buttocks even louder and sharper; but I was absurdly grateful. And then, from one breath to the next, those punishing hands turned suddenly softly caressing, maddeningly rousing. And the hours slipped by, stealing my control, my resistance, my last bastion of self. 

Pain without deliverance. 

Pleasure without completion. 

Hours and hours. 

I was quivering putty in his hands. 

Finally, he stopped, and this time, I felt the hard press of his solid body. And then the soft touch of his lips between my shoulder blades, moving down my spine. Tremors of sensation radiated from each point where his lips touched my oversensitive skin. By the time he reached my buttocks, my entire body was a single taut muscle. When he pulled away momentarily, I could have cried with the loss, but the sudden hot swipe of his tongue on my balls would have sent me to the ceiling if I hadn't been so firmly tied down. 

"So responsive," he murmured. "So ready for me." He made himself comfortable between my spread thighs, rough hands messaging my tortured flesh. His hands felt so good in a perversely painful way, as he parted my buttocks and stroked the tight sensitive bud with wet slippery fingers. Then the heavenly fingers were withdrawn, and something much larger stroked along my balls and crack. 

The bastard was letting me know the measure of his length and girth. God help me. 

I dropped my head into the pillow in surrender. The sound of his chuckle reached my burning ears. The rough hands parted my buttocks again, and the pressure on my anus was unrelenting, until my sphincter yielded, and he was in with a grunt. I groaned into the pillow, the sensation of being filled overwhelming, even as the rest of his body descended on mine, pinning me with his heat and hardness. One hand held my hip while the other stroked up along my left flank, to my shoulder and down along my stump. I tensed and tried to twist away, but he held me firmly, making me submit to the most terrifying of caresses. 

He withdrew and pushed forward again, until his heavy balls pressed against the parted hot flesh of my buttocks. The hand on my hip dug into my flesh, but the other that held my stump was gentle. I felt his teeth bite the back of my neck, followed by the wet soothing of his tongue, and then his lips moved, traveling down along my shoulder to the ugly stump. He kissed the scar tissue gently. 

Stunned, I dared to look up at him, his gaze so hot and close. If I had been smart enough to have known terror then, I wasn't strong enough to resist the sucking abyssal need for more. 

Then he drew away, and, grasping my hips with both hands, began to pump with great force. His angled in-thrusts stroked unerringly across my prostate, bringing bright sparks behind my eyelids and wringing strangled cries from my throat. He reached around and his fingers closed around the almost unbearable hardness of my cock. The hard wall of his chest pressed down on my back, and his hips slammed into the sensitive flesh of my buttocks. 

"Come, boy," came his sex-roughened voice. His hand jacked me mercilessly, his thick cock hitting my prostate with the same rhythm, and then there were white explosions in front of my eyes, and spasms that I felt through my spine and my gut as I came over his hand in a brain-liquefying explosion. My body spasmed helplessly on the mattress, satiation rolling over me like a slow-breaking wave. 

He still had not come. And he waited. 

Waited until I had come back down a little from the euphoria. Waited until I became aware of the thick hardness still embedded in my rectum. Only then, with deliberate slowness, he began to move again. 

Over-sensitized and hovering on the precipice of pleasure and pain, I could only shudder and moan and submit. Each inward plunge was like a punch to the guts, a sensation that was as exquisite as it was painful. Each time he bottomed out deep inside me, a deep bass groan was pulled from his throat. His speed and strength picked up, his thick penis punching right through to the bottom of my soul. He finally came with a bellow, spasms shaking his hard body as he pressed me into the mattress. Euphoria rushed over me, dragging with it a tide of post-orgasmic lethargy, seeping into my tied limbs. 

It was much later that I awoke briefly, noting the dim purpling dawn light filtering through the curtains, and the confines of my bonds, and the large warm weight curled languidly around me, snoring softly. I had tried to twist a little, and his arm tightened reflexively around my waist, drawing me tighter into his warmth, nuzzling between my shoulder blades and kissing me like a lover. Amid sleepy warm fuzzies, I decided I could definitely live with this part of the program, and floated back down into slumber. 

He kept me chained to the bed for two weeks. After which he told me I had earned a little freedom for good behavior, which in his book simply meant a longer chain. So I didn't have to use the humiliating bottle to pee during the day when he was gone, but the phone and the television were still well out of reach. The long quiet hours spent waiting were in complete contrast to the sensory overload of pleasure and pain he put me through each night. 

It was the closest thing to a vacation I've had in a very long time. 

So much for underestimating the boring straight-laced pencil-pushing paper-shuffling wage-slave sexy-as-hell government bureaucrat. 

Which brings me back to the present. Sitting here in this psychotic elevator, going up and down. And that strong feeling of being watched, a kind of amused observation that would have been more tolerable if I could have just seen _something_ tangible; camera lens, microphone. But this all-around omnipresent feeling was just the wrong side of creepy... 

* * *

"Have you been going up and down all this time, Otis?" 

*Yes, sir. Intermittently, so as not to attract security's attention.* 

"He's tried to get out?" 

_Yes, but I have overridden all the systems, without tripping the alarms._

"It's been an hour." 

*Sixty-seven minutes, sir.* 

"And he's been in there, going up and down, like a slow milkshake?" 

_I was endeavoring to keep him entertained._

"OK. Open the door." 

* * *

He had been sitting on the floor, and was struggling halfway to his feet when I stepped into the cab. The door whisked close behind me immediately, and I felt the elevator start to rise. The sudden movement threw him off a little, and I used the opportunity to grab him, flip him around and slam him against the wall. 

"Jesus -!" 

I could feel rather than hear the breath escape his lungs. Grabbing the open side of the hand cuff, I slipped it around the handrail and snicked it close. Pressing his hips up against his now-trapped hand, I kept his chest pressed up against the metal wall, skin to steel. With the other hand, I reached around and yanked open the zipper to his jeans, and pulled the denim over his hips and down his thighs. 

"Couldn't find clean underwear, Alex?" I said, trying for nasty. 

"Fuck you, Skinner," his words were a little distorted by his face being pressed up against the shiny metal wall. 

"All in good time," I mimicked his words. "First things first." 

He couldn't struggle much, being pressed up against the wall, the handrail to which he was cuffed forcing him to thrust his hips back invitingly. His jeans tangled and hobbled his lean legs. With one hand firmly on the back of his neck, I stepped to the side to give my other arm the full swing. 

The sharp smack of my palm to his buttocks reverberated around the small metal car. The first sharp intake of breath was barely drawn when I spanked him again. 

"Dammit, Skinner, not here!" 

"Why not, Alex?" I asked conversationally. "You think we might be interrupted? Or maybe we're being watched on camera?" 

"Fuck - uhh!" my palm's flat slap against his pale bottom cheeks cut him off. I spread my smacks evenly over the struggling buttocks, concentrating on the sit-spot which drew groans from him. My hand began to throb after some time, so I switched hands and sides and continued. The elevator car reverberated with the cracking slaps and the heartfelt groans coming from the rat. I considered using my belt, to reduce the wear on my hands, but I figured the humiliation accompanying the titillation of being spanked carried much more weight. 

I kept hitting him in a steady fall of whacks, feeling his lean body tense and twist. The flesh of his ass was blushing red, and eventually, like I knew he would, he stopped struggling, and lay still under my blows, his groans now a pure reaction to the slaps. He wasn't crying, exactly, but he was accepting, not fighting. 

I finally paused, long enough to reach down and pull his jeans completely off him, so that he stood there naked, except for the collar. I pressed up against him, the rough woolen fiber of my pants scraping against the tender soreness of his butt. He gasped and flinched. His voice rose as my hand reached between his thighs and grasped his balls in a none-too-gentle hold, rolling them in my palm hot from tanning his buttocks. Using my body to keep his immobile, I slid my other hand around to his front, seeking his cock, already hard and leaking precum. 

I bent and pressed my lips against his shoulder, sliding my mouth up to his ear. 

"Maybe someone is watching," I murmured. "Watching me about to fuck your pretty ass." 

"Are you...are you insane?" his voice was raspy. 

I doffed the shirt and freed my own hard cock, lube and condom at the ready, and slid its length along his crack. I loved reminding him exactly what he was about to get, and never quite giving him enough time to adjust before pushing my cockhead into his hot tight ass. 

"Think someone somewhere is watching you right now, boy?" I struggled to keep my voice steady, despite the delicious hot slide into his tightness. I kept my hand around his cock, feeling it strain and harden. I drew out slowly, almost all the way, and then just as slowly thrust all the way back in, until I bottomed out inside him, balls deep. My belly pressed against his hot spanked flesh. I grinned against the back of his neck when I heard his groan. 

"Yeah, I think you like an audience." I nuzzled his ear as I spoke, feeling him shudder at the intimate exhibitionism. "Watching you. Watching me fuck you." 

I stepped back abruptly, withdrawing almost all the way out and then, grabbing his hips, pulled him backwards to me, re-impaling himself on my cock. Without giving him time to adjust, I repeated my move, until he was stretched one handed from the rail, body bent and proffered to me. 

"Oh, _god_..." 

With the better angle, I stroked across his prostate in a long series of in-thrusts, until he was moaning and gasping for air. The hand that held his cock squeezed, and he responded with a strangled cry. 

"You'll come when I say so," I growled. "Show them what a good boy you are." 

A shudder rippled through the body beneath mine. Tightening my grip on his hips, I began to pump, steadily increasing the pace. I was trying not to lose my tempo, but his tight anus was so exquisite, his quivering submission so sweet, that I tensed over him, and came with a shout, deep inside him. Orgasmic waves washed over me as I half-collapsed on his back, my grip on his hip and his cock never relenting. 

I became aware of the sheen of sweat on the straining back beneath me. The tautness of his body was in contrast to the growing satiation in mine, and I straightened and leaned over him again. Very slowly, I pumped his turgid cock. His hips twitched, but he knew better than to try to direct my movement. His whole body was rigid with waiting. 

"Show them how prettily you come for me, Alex," my own voice was harsh and raspy. 

His head dropped, "Walter..." 

The moment of exquisite capitulation had arrived. I tightened my grip on his full heavy cock and jacked him once, twice. Beneath me, his body bucked and arched like a giant cat, long muscles flexing, and he flung his head back. " _Walter_ \- !!" And he came over my hand in a hot pulsing stream. 

As we rode out his climax, his knees trembled, and I lowered us to the floor, allowing him to shudder and ride the wave of his orgasm of the endorphin backwash. We lay there, jolted by occasional tremors and bathed in a sweaty sated warmth. 

I slowly became aware of a distinct feeling of satisfaction in the air that was not my own. 

* * *

_That was most entertaining, Assistant Director._

"I'm sure that's not a common occurrence in elevators." 

*Actually, you'll be surprised how many humans have sex in elevators.* 

"Really?" 

*Yes, sir. It happens all the time. It's quite a popular activity.* 

"And here I was hoping to surprise you." 

*But you did, sir. The spanking was quite a treat. I've never witnessed one before.* 

"I'm so glad to have peaked your interest. A small recompense for keeping the rat caged." 

_He is rather a sweet submissive, sir. It would be very nice to have him as a guest again, soon._

"Why, Otis. You are a constant source of wonder." 

_I aim to please, sir._

* * *

Share and Enjoy. 

Sirius Cybernetics Corporate Mission Statement. 

* * *

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Shan 


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